


dreamscapes

by Tat_Tat



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Brainwashing, Coma, Complicated Relationships, F/F, Mind Control, Non-Consensual, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 15:33:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13684569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tat_Tat/pseuds/Tat_Tat
Summary: Moira O'Deorain and Angela Ziegler could never see eye to eye on a professional basis, but that didn't stop them from falling for each other. Now, years later, Moira has an accident and falls into a coma. Angela must compromise her own morals and use forbidden technology to enter Moira's mindscape, find her, and bring her back.





	1. Chapter 1

Angela could count the years since she last heard from Moira on both hands. The first year had been the toughest, but after the third, they melted into nine.

She often wondered what Moira was doing, and when she had the nerve, she would search her name online to read the interviews, video, and the four papers she had written since their partnership dissolved.

Angela touched her ring finger and then, mulling over things, found her pen to fidget with instead.

All things considered, Moira was doing well without her She expected nothing less. She hoped her own work displayed the same message. Was that petty? She wanted to believe that she simply wanted Moira to be proud of her, but it was more than that tarnishing all her hard work. 

No one seemed to realize her motivation, and she planned to keep it that way. 

If Moira knew Angela was reaching for her attention, she was ignoring her, or she was too busy, or she didn’t know what to say. 

Angela was having trouble finding the words to speak after watching a video message she'd received from Moira's email address. After spending a full half hour agonizing whether she should open it or delete it, she finally gave in and played the video, but it wasn’t Moira who was onscreen-- it was a younger woman.

“¿Qué tal? Were you expecting someone else?” The woman paused to grin. “You wouldn’t believe what I know about you. . But that’s for another time.”

Again she paused, letting that sink in. Angela disliked her already.

“Thought you’d like to know our dear geneticist could use some help. She’s been comatose since an incident. Gabe-- I mean-- ‘Reaper’ suggested a familiar voice would help.”

Another irritable pause.

“I’ll be waiting...” She brought her forefinger close to the screen and lightly tapped it. “Boop.”

Angela replayed the video three times in twenty minutes, wondering if it was a trap. If it was, it was the most seductive of traps. Angela chewed her bottom lip. She couldn’t bear thinking that Moira was suffering while she scrutinized the legitimacy of the message.

She sighed and left her desk. Her productivity was shot.

She hung up her lab coat and closed the lab. She walked the dark hallways and paced around the courtyard, lost in thought, in memory. The moon was a sharp sliver that sheened silver across her back. She remembered nights like this when she and Moira were just on the cusp of getting burnt out. They would sit on the grass, Moira’s head in her lap, reciting classical poetry. 

Angela closed her eyes. Ten years had passed but she could still recall running her fingers through short red hair. Spreading her fingers out, she felt for a strong jawline, thin lips and thin brows. Then she opened her eyes and the sensations dissipated. 

“Looks like your mind's made up, ángel.”

Angela looked up. There was no one there-- at first glance. She heard twigs snap off to the right and jerked her face towards the sound. 

There wasn’t enough darkness to be shrouded in and the footsteps were awfully close. Angela reached out and found a shoulder to grip. Surprised, she jerked her hand back.

“Boo,” a familiar voice replied to the touch and a flash of fractured purple lights evaporated into the night to reveal a woman whose wavy hair was coirfed in an undercut. It was the same woman who had sent her the message about Moira’s condition.

“Who are you?” 

Angela narrowed her eyes. She flicked her gaze upwards to the two spots where security cameras were tucked inconspicuously. The woman followed her line of sight and shook her head. 

“I took out the security cameras, un poco de privacidad. Sombra.” She extended a hand, covered in a sinew of wires. “A good friend of Moira’s.”

Angela did not take her hand. “Your method of fetching me is unorthodox.”

“Would you like to give your friends the wrong idea?”

“Mmm.” Angela’s lips were tight. She shifted on her feet. 

Sombra rolled her eyes. “Listen, I’m not going to kidnap you. If I wanted to--”

“...You already would have.”

Sombra formed two ‘L’ signs with her thumbs and forefingers. Dragging the gesture through thin air, she materialized a screen that spun into focus. It was a live video feed of a face that Angela hadn’t seen in years.

Moira looked different from the photograph still tucked in Angela's dresser drawer. There were distinguished lines near her cheeks and the corners of her eyes, but her chin was as sharp and recognizable as ever. Her eyes were closed, and although Angela worried about her condition, it was the most peaceful she had ever seen her. Moira had always been a restless sleeper, just like her. 

“How long?”

“She’s been out for two weeks.”

“And you’ve just now contacted me?”

Sombra flicked the screen away. It minimized into nothingness as it spun. “Are you coming or not?”

“It’s like you said. I already made up my mind.”

Sombra extended her hand and she took it, the anger in her grip palpable. 

 

X  
The jolt of traveling via translocator knocked Angela off her feet. Her stomach bubbled and acid pricked up her throat. She managed to swallow it down. 

Sombra was standing next to her. She was not completely unaffected and briefly reached for her stomach before she noticed Angela watching. Angela wondered how Lena did this everyday. She wiped the corner of her mouth and brought herself to her feet, taking in her new surroundings.

They were on a jet plane, the ground shaking underfoot as it started to take off. Sombra walked past her and took a seat, ignoring the safety belt. After a moment of looking around and finding nothing interesting, Angela joined her and took care to buckle up. Although she didn’t particularly like Sombra so far, she fastened her seat belt too.

“Aye, you’re such a mom.”

That wasn’t the first time Angela had heard that. She feigned a smile. “Safety first.”

Sombra disclosed that their destination was Oasis, a name that Angela was familiar with. Moira had recently become the city’s Minister of Genetics. That was the most Sombra would tell her. For the rest of the flight to Oasis, Sombra teased her and pried at her about her past. The questions were uncomfortable and bordered on sexual harassment. She wanted to know about the intimate details of her relationship with Moira. Angela couldn’t get off the jet fast enough, but Sombra had yet to leave her side. Angela had a feeling the other woman would be with her for her entire visit. At least when they disembarked the invasive questions stopped.

The dawn was wet and humid. Her blouse clung to her, soaked. She took off her lab coat, but there was no reprieve from the heat. Her last shower had been the morning before, and as she drew in a breath, she was slightly relieved that Moira wouldn’t be subjected to the stench while conscious.

Maybe that was why it had been easy for Sombra to talk her into doing this. She could face Moira unopposed, without the threat of a snappy reply-- or a moment of weakness, her feelings betraying her.

And she could help, Angela reminded herself. The hallway Sombra took her down seemed to go on for miles, and then there was the stairwell, the elevator...

Layers and layers of concrete and clearance codes showed how vital Moira was to Talon. She was no doubt soaking in the attention, Angela was sure.

Several feet underground, they had reached the medical wing, reserved for important figures. The air was stale and Angela thought this was a poor place for recovery. The focus on discretion and the healing resident’s safety was clear. 

As they drew closer to Moira’s room, Sombra detailed Angela on what she would do. The plan sounded like a plot from a movie: Sombra would create a neural connection between her and Moira.

“You said a familiar voice might help.”

Sombra snorted. “Did you think this was going to be a hospital visit?”

To be fair, Angela thought it might be, featuring a touch of her medical expertise, not like this. 

“I’m a surgeon, not a psychologist.”

“You’ll see. It will be like talking to her face to face, only in her head.”

Angela chewed her bottom lip and twisted a section of the lab coat in her hands. “Will she be able to hear what I’m thinking?”

“If you let her.”

X

When they reached Moira’s room, there was already someone sitting in the corner: a black-cowled figure, with his arms crossed in a surly gesture. He ignored Sombra and watched Angela. She wondered what he was thinking, but could glean nothing given the bone-white mask that covered his face.

He said nothing also and Angela figured that was on purpose, to keep his identity a secret. 

However, Sombra wasn’t subtle and directly called him by name. “Hey Gabe.” 

He bristled.

“It’s good to see you’re well,” Angela said calmly, and she wished the circumstances were different. She wondered about Amélie by association. Talon had taken so many dear to her through the carnage of war, through temptation, and betrayal...

One thing at a time, Angela, she sharply reminded herself.

Moira was in the center of the room: the person she had come for. She walked past Gabriel and took a seat next to Moira. From the corner of her eye, Angela saw Gabriel stand up, Sombra reluctantly following behind him. She waited for the door to click closed behind them and scooted her chair closer.

There were little details that she'd missed in the video Sombra had showed her earlier: the little flecks of gray in Moira’s hair and scars that Angela did not recognize. She looked peaceful, if pensive. Angela hesitated to touch her. Moira was always a light sleeper. 

Gently, Angela touched her cheek.

She sucked in a breath, memories of the crack of dawn spreading slivers of light over bodies cocooned in covers, of Moira facing her, still asleep. Moira’s forehead was always set in a crease as she slept restlessly. She told Angela she never dreamed, unaware that she muttered in her sleep.

“Are you dreaming now?” she asked, carding her fingers through soft hair.

The room was quiet and they were alone still. Angela made a quick glance to the door and leaned forward. Her nose skirted Moira’s ears as she took in the nostalgic scent of clover and listened to her breathing. The entire time Moira did not stir, even when a trickle of Angela’s sweat dripped on her brow.

Her eyes traveled from Moira’s chin to her neck, to the shirt that was partially open, revealing her collarbones, but nothing more except for the gold chain that flashed under the lights.

Angela stood up to reach for the necklace, and lingered to stroke Moira’s throat with the ends of her fingers. She made another anxious glance at the door and pulled the chain from under Moira’s shirt.

Angela inspected it closely. She had never seen Moira wear jewelry, except for...

Two rings hung from the gold chain, gently clinking together like a windchime, a reminder, a possibility lost.

Angela remembered Moira down on one knee, kissing her hand after she’d accepted the ring on her finger.

And she remembered sealing the ring in a manila envelope with a letter to leave on Moira’s desk just a week into their engagement.

Carefully, she slipped the necklace from Moira’s neck and undid the chain to retrieve the ring made for her. 

It was still a perfect fit.

Footsteps came around the corridor and Angela quickly returned the necklace to its place. 

“Miss us?” Sombra twiddled her fingers as she waved, following behind ‘Reaper.’ 

“I was examining her,” Angela quickly said.

“I didn’t ask. Is that what you were doing, la médica?”

Angela’s eyes narrowed and she changed the subject. “Well? Are we still doing this?”

She was getting nervous. She reached for her left hand and toyed with the circlet on her ring finger. 

She stopped.

Sheisse...

Sombra’s eyes flickered to her hands. She grinned, but said nothing.

“Please. I have work to do.”

“Of course you do.”

“Sombra...” Gabriel growled beneath the cowl and mask, the first time Angela had heard him speak since he had taken this identity to work under Talon. The voice was slightly warped, like stray particles that pricked skin: a ghost, or a shadow of his former self.

Angela caught herself playing with the ring on her finger again and cleared her throat, taking the seat next to Moira’s bed again, careful not to sit too close.

Sombra leaned over Moira to press an amethyst-colored chip to her temple. She gave its twin to Angela, applied to the same spot.

Matching rings, matching neuro connectors.

But not matching values.

And yet, Angela was here. She’d have preferred kinder circumstances for Moira, but she doubted she would have come otherwise. She could feel the resolve she’d made ten years ago-- worn away by age-- crumble at the sight of her ex-fiancee. She was still unfortunately in love.

How Moira would have smirked, satisfied that she was still twitterpated. Angela would have been irritated by the sight of it and simultaneously a slave to that smile.

Angela closed her eyes. A second glance at Moira would only encourage her to reach for her hand, to be physically and mentally linked. She imagined the action instead, and squeezed her hand around thin air.

“Initiating the neural hack,” said Sombra. 

X

Angela opened her eyes. She hadn't expected to be able to do that. She thought this dive into Moira’s mind would be a conversation shrouded in dark velvet. 

The change in scenery was sudden, but unlike earlier, it didn't cause the bile to raise in her body.

The place she found herself in was spacious and unfamiliar to her, possibly familiar to Moira. There were tall brick buildings spread apart, but they were not in the middle of a city. It was peaceful, almost like a park with the cover of trees and the fountains, but it was not quite that either. Angela felt a wave of nostalgia. She didn’t recognize this place, but the imagery of it echoed her own experiences as a young student. 

Angela carded through her memory. Moira had mentioned the university she'd attended a handful of times but that had been ten years ago. The passionate highs and lows of their relationship were still vivid, but some of their conversations had been lost in the ether. What Angela still remembered, she preferred not to. Those words, dull with age, could still sting.

Above, the sun was blocked by a film of purple-gray smog. A drop of moisture fell on her shoulder and she started her trek to the center building. 

A scattering of students, shadow figures really, milled about, passing by and passing through her. Their faces were unreadable. One passed through her like cool menthol and she shivered, tensed, and picked up her pace to avoid bumping into another one.

She pressed her weight on the doors. With difficulty they groaned forward, but with ease they snapped shut behind her.

The halls were dark, and though the some of the shadow figures had followed her to the same building, they were absent inside. The classrooms on both sides of her were dimly lit, too low for any teaching to be occurring, and it was quiet. Angela’s steps echoed through the pitch and the hall lengthened with each stride. She had kept her face forward at first, anticipating Moira at the end of the hallway, but the longer she walked, the deeper her curiosity steeped and she glanced at the classrooms from the corner of her eye.

Something flickered in her peripheral vision. She stopped to investigate.

Inside the classroom she saw Gabriel, young and strapping, before the explosion, before jealousy had gripped him. At first, it felt like he was staring straight at her, but he mentioned ‘your work in genetics’ and she realized she was seeing the event from Moira’s perspective. 

Angela’s eyes couldn’t help but brush from one room to another after that. She had always wondered how Moira saw things to excuse the things she did.

Instead of answers, Angela saw herself. It was easy to mistake it for a reflection, but-- and she could admit this in private-- this blonde-haired version of her on the other side had no wrinkles and all the brightness in her blue eyes.

They were Moira’s memories of Angela when she was younger, back when it was easier to live off of three hours of sleep, to survive the occasional all nighter.

It was embarrassing to watch herself and she cringed hearing the things she had once said. She didn’t linger to see the scenes play out, only noticing that there were many focused on her.

The realization that Moira may have missed Angela more than she let on edged it’s way into her heart.

She walked faster, ran, and then she flew. 

The transition went unnoticed. Flying was like breathing after all her hours on the battlefield, and she felt safer gliding towards her destination. She landed in front of an open door before she finally noticed, only because the Caduceus Staff was absent from her hands. She was still dressed in the wet blouse and skirt she had been wearing when she came into work yesterday, with the addition of wings on each ankle and three pairs of wings attached to her back.

“Perhaps Moira isn’t the only one allowed imagination in her dreams,” she decided, and with a thought changed her clothes into something more presentable, to fit the part of Moira’s guardian angel, come to save her.

Moira always did tease her for going all out with her costumes.

Angela ran a hand through the white chiton, and, satisfied, moved lightly off her feet through the blindingly lit open door.

The threshold swallowed her up. Curiously, it was dark on the other side.

“Moira?” she asked. The wings at her heels beat and she hung in midair, anticipating an answer.

“Is that you, angel?” Moira’s voice replied through the dark. Then she murmured to herself, “No, a dream.”

“It’s me.” Angela landed on her feet and hoped that the sound of her footsteps would guide Moira to her. Then she thought of something better, and taking advantage of the flexibility of the mindspace, she started to glow.

“I see you now”

Angela turned her head but couldn't catch the source of Moira’s voice. Her voice echoed as if she were the room itself. That wasn’t too far-fetched, but it unsettled Angela to think about.

“Where are you?” 

“Right beside you.”

Angela looked. “I don’t see you.”

“How about now?” The darkness lifted to become a dense purple fog, and the combination of the fog and the light blurred her vision more than the dark alone had. 

“Honestly! Moira, stop toying with me!”

A hand closed around her wrist. “I could say the same to you. My own consciousness likes to tease me, you see.”

“What are you--”

Moira’s red eye pierced through the fog, shining on Angela’s face like a skeptical beacon. “This isn’t the first time you’ve drifted through my subconscious, Angela dear.”

Angela remembered the long hallway to here, the classrooms alive with memories, distinctly containing fragments of how Moira remembered her. “I imagine it hasn’t.”

Moira quirked a brow. “Fascinating. Out of all the figments of my imagination, you are the most convincing one.”

“How so?”

“May I?” Moira raised a hand to caress her face. Hesitantly, Angela allowed her.

“Oh my,” Moira hummed, stroking the corner of her eye. “You’ve aged.”

Angela pulled back, scowling. “You’re kidding!” 

It had to be a joke. Everyone else said she didn’t look a day over twenty, but then, if anyone were to notice a wrinkle, the slightest change in her appearance, it would be Moira.

“I haven’t seen you in years, dear Angela. In my dreams you’re the same woman who left me, but I see now that you are somewhat different.”

Angela frowned at that. She’d nearly forgotten why she was here, caught up in seeing Moira again, again victim to her tricks and banter. Moira had said she’d changed, but Angela felt like nothing had changed at all. How easily they could pick up where they left off as if years and loneliness hadn’t passed.

Angela wondered two things: how she could pull Moira out of the coma, and how would she be able to cope when walking away from Moira a second time? She had ended things so suddenly and that had affected Moira. Angela blamed herself for Moira’s obsession with her.

“You’re not dreaming, you know. You had an accident... you’re...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work has two endings!
> 
> Bad Ending: Talon (Chapter 2)
> 
> Good Ending: Mercy (Chapter 3)


	2. Bad End: Talon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the bad ending. This ending contains non-con and brainwashing.

Moira smiled, unsettling. She reached to touch Angela’s cheek, and said, “I know.”

Angela’s eyes widened, and before she could pull back, Moira caught her by her wings, and with a squeeze dismantled the illusion. With her wings gone, the glow Angela emanated dampened too. She considered pulling at the threads of imagination to knit new wings, something to take her far from Moira, but knew she couldn’t. There was no running away, not unless Moira allowed it. It was impossible to run from someone whose mind you were occupying. 

That had been the plan all along, and surely why Sombra hadn’t fully explained how Angela was going to draw Moira out of the coma. Angela had been right to second guess Moira’s condition right from the start. 

“Stay,” Moira ordered and through no will of her own, Angela stopped struggling.

The room brightened around them, and along with the scenery, Angela’s and Moira’s clothing changed as well. Moira was in freshly ironed slacks, button-up shirt and lab coat, stretching a nitrile glove over her hand. It snapped, echoing. 

Show off, Angela would have said if she weren’t preoccupied by her own nakedness. There was a thin linen sheet draped over her and the cold metal table against her back.

“You want to know what I’m about to do,” Moira said. “But you’re afraid to ask.”

“Let me go.”

“Again?” Moira laughed, hollow. “No.”

Angela burned to move, but under the thumb of Moira’s mind, she could not. 

Moira ran gloved hands under the thin barrier between them. “I’m going to unravel you like a ball of yarn.”

Her hands skimmed Angela’s sides.

And then, “You’re aware of what we did to Amélie...?”

“You were responsible for slowing her heart rate.”

Moira nodded and Angela hated how proud she looked. “I augmented her body. Her mind was someone else’s design, but they allowed me to borrow the technology.”

“What does Talon need me for? They already have you.”

“True, but we always did work better together. I’ve been following your work. We may not have agreed, but we challenged each other.”

Angela bristled as Moira’s fingernail found a ticklish spot. “I’ll hardly be a challenge if you brainwash me.”

Long nails scraped her hairline and pressed into skin. “I’ll be careful to keep that part of you intact.”

Angela hissed under the weight of Moira’s consciousness inside of her. She wanted to react. She wanted to push Moira off of her, to scream, to curl her toes and grit her teeth as she endured the pain. She wanted to leave, and then she didn’t want to exist. She wanted so many things and she cried as Moira plucked those wants away piece by piece.

“...Will I still feel?” she finally asked, thinking of Amélie’s voice, flat save for the inflection of her French accent.

“Of course,” Moira said. Her bedside manner was the same as Angela remembered it: without any reassurance. 

That was the last thing she thought of, before the re-programming took full effect.


	3. Good End: Mercy

“You’re not dreaming, you know. You had an accident… you’re in a coma.”

Moira had seen that look before on Angela's face before. Angela had been younger then, her voice sweet with concern before Moira told her that what had happened to her arm had been done on purpose.

That had not been the start of their problems, nor was it the end. 

No matter how many years turned, Moira still missed her. The two rings she wore on a chain were heavy and pounded against her chest like an extra heartbeat.

A large part of her hoped to return one of the rings to Angela, to see her wear it again. 

Sombra had seen her moping and saw it as an opportunity. Gabriel agreed that Dr. Ziegler would be useful, but Moira couldn’t help but think he understood how she felt. 

The neural conditioning they had done on Amélie years before was still flawless. Moira saw no complications in the plan. As a guest in Moira’s mind, Angela was bound by her rules, her will. If Moira told her to sit, she would.

But as Angela stood before her, unknowingly vulnerable, Moira hesitated. 

The whole thing was a ruse, but Angela had believed it and come of her own volition to save Moira. No one had forced Angela to care about saving her, and she was certain that coming here was going to cause a lot of trouble, if not now then later. 

And while Angela was here, susceptible to her trap, she was no fool. Certainly she had been suspicious and knew the risk she would be taking. 

Angela had taken a chance for her. She had made that decision on her own.

That in itself was satisfying.

“I am? I don’t recall an incident.”

“You’ve been out for weeks.” Angela stepped closer and took her hand. Coyly, Moira brushed her fingers against Angela’s and almost fled from her grip, noting the ring on her finger. Who had given her that? Moira wondered peevishly. She had heard rumors about her relationship with Fareeha Amari...

“Is something wrong?”

Moira shook her head. “No, go ahead. Lead the way.”

“I’m not sure this will work.”

“I believe it will.”

X

When she woke, it was dawn, one week after Angela had visited her. 

That was what Sombra told Moira. She didn’t believe it until Gabriel confirmed it and mentioned he had escorted her back to Overwatch’s base in Gibraltar. 

“Aye, you should have let the doctor stay here, Gabe,” Sombra cut in.

“She wanted to?” Moira asked.

“She didn’t want to leave your side, but Gabe was afraid that--”

“I wasn’t afraid,” he said tersely. “Now isn’t the time to draw Overwatch’s attention.”

“But taking their top medic hostage?” Sombra shook her head, lamenting the lost opportunity.

“It wasn’t the right time,” Moira agreed, sitting up to stretch. The necklace around her neck sagged and slinked off her shoulder, unclasped. Dumbfounded, Moira caught it in her hands and checked for both rings.

There was only one.

Maybe, the other ring was lost, sandwiched between the blankets, or under a chair.

Or maybe it wasn’t lost.

Maybe it had been found.


End file.
